Murphy’s Law Show

    This was our biggest show, opening for Murphy’s Law. The crowd was moving to our music, and I was getting into the energy, stomping my foot with the sprained ankle, in defiance to the pain,  enjoying watching the dancers crash into each other from the stage.
We went into a song called Skull Smash, that the previous singer had written, and I watched as some skater kid made the mistake of pissing off one of the local skinheads. They started fighting, the skater kid trying valiantly to get the upper hand. Another skin ran up and kicked him in the head, causing him to disengage his previous opponent, and start to fall. Before he got the chance the second skin kicked him in the head again, lifting him up slightly and slowing his descent. The kid was almost horizontal for a moment before a third kick landed, and then he hit the floor, unconscious. Not content to let it end there, the skin stomped on his head, leaving him convulsing and his arms twitching uselessly.
A group of skins emerged and picked the kid up by his four limbs, carrying him out of the venue. Cleanup Crew moving with a practiced, calm cadence. No worries. No repercussions.
As the audience watched, I thanked them for ruining the show.
The thing is, I knew these guys. They had my back. They were reliable. I was just pissed it happened during our set. If I had been fighting someone and one of them kicked the guys head in I wouldn’t have cared. The only difference is I wouldn’t have started the fight.
It later struck me how the lyrics of the song played out in front of me.
After our set, Murphy’s Law took the stage. I was covered in sweat, exhausted, and hurting. My sprained ankle had swollen and we were struggling to get it out of my boot, while some slut was trying to hold my attention. She was dressed all wrong, treating me like a rock star, so I just kept ignoring her.
We finally got my foot out. I sat in a plastic chair with the swollen appendage resting on another. A local girl came up with some ice and put it against my ankle, as I breathed deeply, leaned my head back, and closed my eyes.
The slut decided she didn’t like being ignored, so she walked off, leaving me with the local girl.
I wanted to ask Local Girl her name. I wanted to thank her for going out of her way to get ice and put it on my sweating, stinking foot, but I couldn’t speak. I just wanted to  disconnect from my flesh and embrace the void.
There really wasn’t anything I could say for myself. It was a shitty thing to do, checking out like that. She seemed like a legitimate person, and was obviously kind. I on the other hand, was a dick.
I only ever saw her once after that. It was in Georgetown. She was walking with a bunch of friends. I started toward her and said, “Hey!” She glanced at me, then cut her eyes and continued walking away.
I can’t complain because I deserved it.

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